


I'm Trying Hard to Take It Back

by Cakepopple



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, M/M, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakepopple/pseuds/Cakepopple
Summary: The cut ran along one collarbone before dipping between the two in a slice undoubtedly aimed for his heart. There was too much blood to tell how deep it had gotten; too much to tell if it had hit its mark. The black paladin tasted salt as tears seeped between his lips. He lifted his hand from the crimson trail to the pulse point on his boyfriend’s neck.Lance gets injured in battle. Keith blames himself and promises to make it up to his boyfriend.The song this is loosely based off of (We Are Young) has abusive themes. This story absolutely does NOT! I ain't about that life. The song isn't necessary to understand the story, either.





	I'm Trying Hard to Take It Back

**Author's Note:**

> There are brief descriptions of blood, but not anything bad. That said, if you don't like blood, I'd advise against reading. Other than that, enjoy, and let me know how I did in the comments! :)

_Give me a second I,_

_I need to get my story straight._

_My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State._

He couldn’t count the number of parties they’d thrown, at this point. In the months since Sendak had been defeated, earthlings had found any excuse to celebrate. Keith, upon considering the fact that they’d been under attack for years, figured he couldn’t blame them. Even after understanding the why, though, he couldn’t get himself to partake in the mirth of the grand hall.

It was decorated with elegant, golden decorations, and equally elegant guests. He, however, failed to sparkle anywhere near as vibrantly. He stood in the shadows of a corner, showing off his typical loner attitude, despite now being the leader of Voltron. His brows furrowed briefly, as he tried to remember what falsified reason the Garrison had given for _this_ party. He determined it didn’t matter, instead focusing on scanning the room for one of his friends.

Shiro was happily chatting with other Garrion teachers, Adam at his side, laughing along with whatever joke a teacher had made. He spotted Pidge and Hunk fiddling with lights by the side of the room, mischievous smiles pressed on their lips. He made a mental note not to walk anywhere near that part of the room this evening. Allura and Coran were browsing the tables for foods and drinks. They picked and prodded at the different snacks they gathered, acting like judges on some cooking show. Each one of his friends seemed to glitter like all the other guests at the event. Keith shrunk further into the corner, brought his cup to his lips, and glared over the rim at his brother who chose to abandon him in favor of socializing.

_My lover he's waiting for me, just across the bar._

_My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking about a scar, and…_

He ran his eyes over the room one last time. They landed on the bar, where his final teammate, and boyfriend, sat. Lance was indulging in friendly chatter, a bubbling drink at his fingertips and a smile at his lips. Keith noticed how low the collar of his shirt dipped and, apparently, so did the alien next to the boy at the bar. The foreigner shifted her sunglasses, then, lifting a blue finger, pointed at a fresh scar running along and between Lance’s collarbones. The boy looked startled for a moment before tugging his shirt up by the back of his collar, in an attempt to hide the mark. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing a joyless laugh, before he let his hand fall back around his drink on the counter.

_I know I gave it to you months ago,_

_I know you're trying to forget._

_  
_

Keith noted the way Lance’s eyes shifted when the alien asked about the scar. The embarrassment, the shame, the guilt, the _pain_ , filling them as he covered the barely healed injury. Keith felt his throat clench at the sight. No, clench wasn’t the right word. He’d describe the feeling as his guilt finally crawling up his windpipe. It did so with the hope of escaping on the wave of some strangled noise, only to get stuck halfway up. He chugged his drink. Pushing off the wall, he meandered over to the bar, chucking the plastic cup in the recycling on his way.

The most aggravating thing, to Keith, about that mark was the time at which Lance received it. It was about two months after Sendak was gone and dealt with, all of the paladins were out of the hospital, and the universe seemed to be, for the most part, at peace. The threat to Earth was so small, they all forgot they had enemies at all. The team went shopping, hoping to show the Alteans among them what _real_ Earth shops had in stock. They’d really only experienced the shop at the space mall, or in Romelle’s case, no shops at all.

Earth was completely at peace.

People crowded the outdoor shopping center, despite the threat of rain that afternoon. It was cloudy, and the humidity made Keith more fidgety than usual. Lance, however, was stoked at the very idea of of rain, since he’d missed it more than anyone else on the team had. He bubbled. When Keith got too jittery, he let his eyes land on Lance’s smile. Regardless of the size of it, regardless of the reason behind it, regardless of whether it was accompanied by laughter, it never failed to ease his nerves. He stayed no more than two paces from his boyfriend at all times.

They popped into countless shops, but the black paladin had yet to buy anything. Lance kept offering to buy him gifts, holding clothing and jewelry against Keith’s frame and hoping to convince him. He never took the bait. Meanwhile, Lance held a large bag of goodies against his chest with one hand, and balanced a cup of lemonade with the other. He pressed the straw to his lips, shifting the heavy load he was cradling. When Lance finished his sip, Keith took the cup from his grasp, hoping Lance would get the message and hold the bag with both hands.

All he got was a confused look, as Lance questioned, “Did you want some?” His eyebrows furrowed cutely. “You’re welcome to it,” he concluded quietly, a soft smile making a home on his face as he shifted the bag once more. Keith shook his head.

“No, I was freeing your hand.” Lance’s mouth opened a little in realization.

“Oh!” He moved his purchases from against his chest to his hip. He reached his free hand towards Keith’s, holding it softly, with the same gingerness one would hold an egg. The leader let their hands remain linked, not having the heart to tell his boyfriend he hadn’t meant it that way. Instead of uttering a word, he tilted his head toward the sidewalk below them and let a grin prod his lips.

“Did anyone bring an umbrella?” Shiro looked up at the darkening clouds while asking the question, before turning back to the rest of the group for an answer.

“Umbrellas are for cowards,” Pidge said defiantly, pulling a hood over her head and yanking on the drawstrings.

“What’s an umbrella?” Coran made a face like he was about to begin an old Altean story in an attempt to relate, but a raindrop hit his shoulder and he screeched. “Was _that_ an umbrella?!” He started brushing his hands against where it landed, like he could scrape it off. Lance gasped, looking at the sky expectantly, and Keith felt him grip his hand harder. A raindrop landed between the brunet’s eyebrows and he gasped again, further cutting of blood circulation in Keith’s limb. With that, he surrendered to the idea that he’d have to amputate his hand by the end of the day. Needless to say, Lance wasn’t holding his hand like an egg anymore. At least not an egg that would stay in one piece.

The black paladin wanted to frown when he felt drops on his head, frustrated by the knowledge of the coming soggy hair. He found it hard to be upset when he saw the smile on his boyfriend’s face, though. Lance shook water out of his hair like a dog, after watching a drop run down the bridge of his nose. Everyone else ran into the nearest shop, but Keith made no effort to drag Lance away from the rain, content with suffering through a cold the next day, if need be. The younger boy stuck his tongue out as it started to rain harder. Keith admired the way his cheeks curved when he smiled, and the way his eyes squinted as he looked into the clouds. Best still was the way the covered sun still managed to shimmer in his blue pools. It was only when he heard thunder that he started to worry.

Shiro interrupted his concern when he popped his head out of the shop everyone had sprinted into, “Hey, we need to drop our stuff off at the car,” he started. “Someone from the Garrison just called and informed me of a hostage situation.” Allura pushed past him, carrying everything bought by the team that day, except the bag Lance had. She jogged over and held the stack in front of her, as an indication for him to add his own purchases to the stack. He reluctantly did so, without letting go of Keith’s hand, surprisingly enough. She forced the whole pile over her head and, without breaking a sweat, started off in the direction of the car. Lance shook his hair dry again and Keith cringed as the water splashed him. Once the rest of the team stepped back into the rain and once Allura came back from her Altean-super-strength powered run to the car, Shiro began explaining the situation.

It went something like this: A rich and important dude stuck his nose somewhere he probably shouldn’t have, and a group of equally rich and important criminals got their panties in a twist. They got back at the man by kidnapping his kid, a six year old boy, and demanding a ransom, as if they weren’t already rich enough. The man intended to pay the criminals and comply with their demands, but he wanted someone to watch the transaction to make sure the criminals held up their end. For some reason, team Voltron was who they agreed on as the overseer. Lance thought it was suspicious and voiced his concerns.

“Isn’t it weird they chose us? Aren’t we, like, a danger to the criminals or something? Since we, ya know, kinda catch their type?”

“I agree, but we don’t have much of a choice, here. I, for one, don’t want the blood of a six year old on my hands,” Shiro answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Haha, yeah. Wouldn’t want to hurt your own kind. Right, Shiro?” Hunk was grinning when he made his leap year joke; everyone could hear it in his voice.

They also heard it when Pidge swung her hand up and high fived him while shouting, “Nice one!”

Shiro gave them both a disapproving look. “Anyway, they agreed on the plaza of this shopping center for the trade,” he added. Lance squinted, before commenting again.

“Okay, you have to admit, that’s _really_ fishy. A mall plaza? Sketch. Are you sure we can’t get them to reconsider or something? Or look into the dangers of this?”

Shiro shook his head, and that was the end of that exchange. Keith could still feel the nervous energy radiating from his boyfriend. He could feel him shaking, too. Just a little in his fingertips. It was something Lance did subconsciously when he was anxious, and even when Lance didn’t know _why_ he was anxious, he could tell he was by the jitters in his hands. Keith knew how frustrated he could get when he shook too much and couldn’t shoot his gun right. He was good at keeping his cool in battle. He knew how to keep his sharpshooter title alive when he was shaking, most of the time. Even so, there were days when it was all too much and his shots didn’t hit their marks. That said, Keith was confident today wasn’t one of those days.

They all made their way to the plaza, watching police officers clear the area of civilians for their safety. Eventually, Allura left for a few minutes, but came back with a bag she received from the man whose son was kidnapped. Keith could only assume it was full of cash. The whole situation was unlike any they had dealt with in space. They weren’t hostage negotiators. Actually, Keith was certain that would be something he’d be _terrible_ at. “Shoot first, ask questions later,” and all that.

Despite the strange, new scenario, and as frustrating as it was, he found himself constantly distracted from the focus of the mission. His attention landed, instead, on Lance’s soaked form. The way the rain caught in his eyelashes and the way the sun reflected off the hanging water. The way he blinked his lashes dry, and the way the rain traced down his cheeks and caught again in the line between his lips. The absent minded way he licked it off.

His hair looked cute when it was wet, too. Dangerously cute. It wasn’t the same fluffy, doglike cute it was when it was dry. It was the sloppy kind of cute; the same way bedheads and sleepy, drooping eyelids were cute.

His attention only landed where it should have been all along when thunder echoed through the shopping center, yet again. It made the rain seem stormier and more dangerous. It made the air feel colder. He heard it again, but it sounded a bit off. Not really like thunder at all, more like the rumbling of an engine. The growl of the engine echoed throughout the plaza a second time, and closer. Or maybe it was more than one, a conclusion he made when a set of motorcycles whipped past, the riders a mix of aliens and humans. They all stopped in the plaza. Two stopped closer to the paladins than the rest and, leaning their bikes on their kickstands, they made their way over to the red paladin. Keith felt his side get warmer as he stepped closer to Lance, and he felt his face heat the same way, with a flare of protectiveness.

From the little bit of one biker’s face that he could see through her helmet, it was obvious she wasn’t human. The other, who _was_ human, took his helmet off and bent over to look into Lance’s eyes. “I recognize your face,” he said, leaning even closer to the boy to pinch his nose. “You were in those videos, weren’t you?” He stood back up and clapped his hands together in chipper realization, but somehow it was more intimidating than anything else. It drew Keith’s eyes to his hands, which were bruised and scabbed at the knuckles. “Yeah! Those videos to the families of the paladins!”

“That would make you a paladin, wouldn’t it?” The woman rider came up behind the other, leaning on her friend’s shoulder. A grin parted her lips and a glittering row of sharp, yellow, and _not human_ teeth came into sight.

Shiro stepped forward, stood firmly, and said, “Yes, it would. We’re all paladins.” The woman biker’s smirk fell, and she settled her hands on a device resting on her hip. She lifted it to her lips and muttered something Keith couldn’t make out. In response, another bike swung around the corner and skidded to a stop next two the two in front. There were two people on this one, and one seemed about the size of a typical six year old boy.

When the adult rider got off, he dragged the boy down, too. The kid was crying and wiping at his nose with a muddy and oversized sleeve. He looked up with wide, watery eyes, hiccuping and choking on his breath. Lance gripped Keith’s hand harder, and Keith noticed the deepened creases between his boyfriend’s eyebrows.

“Alright, kiddos. You know the deal.” The biker with the hostage wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders and tugged him closer. The kid looked even more pathetic when his cheek squished against the biker’s waist, making his eyes spill more water. “You put the money in the middle. I’ll bring the kid to the middle, then let him go when I grab the money.” The alien woman dragged a cigarette out of a box in her jacket pocket and one of the other bikers lit it for her. She cleared her throat and everyone switched their attention to her. She took a slow, deep breath from the cigarette. Everyone waited.

She cleared her throat again. “I want him to do it.” Her cigarette swung in a lazy gesture towards Lance, before she sucked in another lungful. Maybe her race has tougher lungs than humans do.

Shiro looked like he wanted to change the conditions, but he took note of the knives in a few of the criminals’ hands and decided not to mention it. He made quick eye contact with Lance, who nodded. Lance let go of Keith’s hand and started drumming his fingers against his bayard. They rarely wore their armor around anymore, but they carried their bayards to be safe. Lance took the bag of money from Allura and made his way to a spot about halfway between the two groups, throwing the bag to the ground with a sneer. He waited, the drumming of his fingers getting faster. His weight shifted two or three times in just the number of seconds it took the criminal to make it to the trading point. The kid was being dragged behind him.

The criminal made it to the center and began to bend down, fingers reaching towards the bag. Lance put his shoe firmly on top. Keith was only able see the side of his face from where he was standing. He could make out the wrinkles of disgust on the bridge of his nose. He watched Lance’s eyelashes fall and rise in a slow blink. When his eyebrows furrowed, he noted the way his lashes dragged across the skin underneath them. His eyes presented a steel resolve. And it was almost convincing, so long as you didn’t notice the quaking in his fingertips. As he opened his mouth, Keith could only hope Lance’s voice didn’t betray the same nerves.

It didn’t.

“Kid first,” he said, in a dangerously scalding voice. While Keith would never know, the heat in Lance’s voice came from the tears in his throat. He hated the position he was in. It made his mouth burn and as the words filled the air, he half expected his lips to crack from the heat. Nonetheless, he managed to curve them into a smile as he faced the hostage, before turning to his target and scowling again.

The criminal begrudgingly shoved the kid forward and Lance immediately stepped off the money to drag the kid closer. He backed both of them away from the center a ways, then kneeled in front of him, speaking in hushed tones Keith couldn’t make out. The kid nodded, and the black paladin assumed that meant Lance had asked if he was alright. Lance stood back up, facing the criminal once again. He put his hand on the back of the child’s head and nudged him towards the crew. He made it to them and hid behind Shiro.

By the time Lance managed to completely focus on the criminal, he was already thumbing through the sack of cash. Lance figured things were wrapping up and he asked, “So, I’d say we’re done here, right?” The criminal hummed.

“This isn’t the right amount,” he murmured, throwing the sack behind him and towards his fellow gang members. Lance’s eyes flicked back to Keith in panic, a plea for some kind of leaderly advice. A plea for him to step in and fix the problem. Allura beat him to it.

“That’s not possible! I counted it personally.” The criminal’s focus whipped to her with a speed and fire that had Keith’s pulse thrumming in his ears like a helicopter. His brain kept repeating, _he’s too close, Lance is too close._ Every time the criminal blinked, Keith just about jumped out of his skin, taking any movement as a sign that he was preparing to attack.

“Then it seems your race can’t fight off Zarkon _or_ count, _Princess_.” He followed the growl of her title with a sickening smile that made Keith’s heart practically burn with the speed it was beating. His fingers itched to pull out his blade and handle the problem the fastest way he knew how: with violence. He spent two years, his time, floating aimlessly through space and solving that problem. Yet something about his boyfriend being the one close to danger had his violent streak boiling in his fingertips again.

“Look, we counted the money; it’s the right amount. What is it you really want?” Keith would make a point to thank Shiro for being the temporary leader after all this was dealt with. He wasn’t thinking clearly enough for a hostage situation. While everyone’s attention was turned towards his brother, Keith activated his blade, keeping the sword hidden behind his back.

The criminal licked his lips, answering, “Something came up, and we need more than we originally asked for. By the looks of it, though, you don’t have any money on you and certainly not the amount _we_ need. So, you go and get that, and we’ll take a bit of,” he put his finger on the tip of Lance’s nose, “ _insurance_ , in the meantime.” To this, Keith’s mind screamed something different and louder.

 _Oh, HELL no._ He planned to take that man’s finger clean off his hand.

Lance seemed to have the same thought. Faster than Keith could even so much as take a step, he had drawn his own blade and swung a quick slice close enough to almost decapitate the criminal.

“Try it, shithead. I’ll chop your dick clean off,” he hissed. The man withdrew his finger, scowling. He turned on his heel.

“Scatter,” he shouted, sprinting back to his bike then revving the engine. “If we can’t get the money from you, we’ll just have to get it from the civilians around here, now won’t we?” He, along with the rest of his gang, went off in different directions. Keith finally knew his need to fight would be fulfilled. Everyone’s bayards were drawn, now. Even Romelle and Adam had pulled out weapons to help.

“Team! Split up and go after them!” This was charge Keith could take. Hunk and Pidge went down one street, the yellow paladin’s blaster sending a bike spiraling down right off the bat. Allura and Romelle took Coran and started along another street. Allura yanked one gang member off their bike and flat onto their back with a hasty crack of her whip and a loud screech of the bike’s tires. Shiro and Adam chased after a few bikes, their combined efforts making quick work of the riders. Adam shot one’s tire and they slowed down enough for Shiro to grab them with his prosthetic arm.

Keith was moved by all of their tactics, but as he watched Lance, he realized whose he found most impressive. He swung his blade down and with that single flick of his wrist, it changed into the rifle he was most familiar with. It was a sniper rifle, but he took the shot so quickly, there was no way he looked through the scope before firing. There were three riders down the street he was watching and he hit each right after the previous. All in the same breath. All in the same second.

“Razzle dazzle, punkasses,” he said loudly and animatedly.

Right after he did, he spun around and faced Keith with an excited dog type of smile. One that practically begged for a “good job” or some other word of praise. Keith smiled back with what he hoped was a smile that spoke the praise for him. One by one, the other groups turned and started to make their ways back, signifying they all cleared their areas of threats. The little boy they rescued had found his place next to Keith, and Lance was walking over to join them. The former kneeled to assess the child’s health, just like Lance had earlier. He didn’t know it, but Lance stopped to admire the softness in Keith’s eyes as he did.

He felt his chest get warm as his leader ran the pads of his thumbs over the kid’s face, squishing his cheeks as the boy cracked a sliver of a smile. The manner in which Keith mirrored that smile made his eyes blur. His boyfriend wasn’t known for being soft. Seeing him treat a child so gingerly and un-hothead-ly made his mouth get warm with boiling tears again, but for an entirely different reason.

Now, this part was clear in Lance’s memories. The same could not be said for Keith. Here’s where his mind started to get fuzzy. Everything was too fast. Too fast, too loud, too cloudy, too much. Somehow, they’d all missed the one bike that didn’t leave the plaza and, subsequently, its rider. Her alien race must really be something; she was too fast for anyone to stop and too quiet for Lance to suspect. She had a blade at his neck and her breath in his ear before anyone could even warn him. Lance could smell the freshly left scent of cigarettes on her lips and he could hear her lick along her teeth.

Keith looked up right as the knife parted his boyfriend’s skin. That was the clearest part for him. That, and the look in her eyes as she did it. Her helmet was off for the first time, and he finally saw the rest of her face. It was a face he had never caught and a face he would never forget. Her eyes glinted in a prideful way. With a gleam that said, “I might not have won, but you certainly won’t, either.”

She was gone soon after and so was her bike. No one went after her. Keith knew some sort of broken noise left his throat. He forced himself up with a shove of his hand so harsh it left blood on the pavement. He was sure he must have screamed. His heels ached with the force he used to propel himself forward. He had to have shouted Lance’s name or _something_ as he sprinted over. But everything was too loud to tell.

In reality, it was probably close to dead silent. The civilians weren’t anywhere in the plaza, there was no one other than the team to make noise. No cars, no people, no animals, nothing. The blood in Keith’s cheeks was loud, though. He could only hear his heart and his breath as he fell next to where Lance had landed.

The cut ran along one collarbone before dipping between the two in a slice undoubtedly aimed for his heart. There was too much blood to tell how deep it had gotten; too much to tell if it had hit its mark. The black paladin tasted salt as tears seeped between his lips. He lifted his hand from the crimson trail to the pulse point on his boyfriend’s neck. The same trail was white now.

After reviewing the events in his mind, Keith felt the urge to tell the alien at the bar about the the circumstances that day. About how his pulse was still there and about how much adrenaline shot through the leader’s veins at that realization. He wanted to shout at her and tell her how hard they worked to make sure Lance made it to that hospital and made it through that injury. He would give anything to be able to ask her who the hell she thought she was. Ask her what gave her the right to point out a survivor’s scar like it was some kind of fault, rather than a sign of triumph.

As he thought more about what he wanted to say to her, however, he realized he could never utter any of it. That scar was a fault, though not Lance’s. Keith couldn’t look at it without feeling like _he_ had put it there. He was Lance’s leader. No, even more he was his _boyfriend_. He should have been watching his back, like he knew the red paladin was doing for him constantly. Keith couldn’t tell that woman off; he didn’t have the right.

But the man couldn’t just do nothing, either.

He thought over what he wanted to say to her as he treaded anxiously towards the two. It wasn’t a long walk, especially at the quick and thudding pace he set. The words he wanted to say had to be firm and make his case, but they couldn’t be downright mean. She probably wasn’t a bad person. Keith was just taking his frustrations out on her and to some degree he knew that. Having said that, it didn’t falter his speed so much as a second, and he was at the bar before he had the chance to plan a proper sentence.

They were in the middle of a conversation. The alien paid Keith no mind, speaking harshly, regardless of the new audience. “So you’re saying your teammates let you get hurt like that, but you still think they care about you?” The black paladin clenched his fist as words began buzzing in his head. It was overwhelming. A sound he wanted to cover his ears and hide from, but a sound he couldn’t avoid. A sound that was already inside. There was no way to get the angry words to quiet. How _dare_ she imply they didn’t care about him. How _dare_ she say it to his boyfriend’s _face_.

“Well, I wouldn’t say _let_ , exactly,” Lance answered, bringing his drink to his lips again and taking a shaky sip. “No one noticed her. I’m sure they would have done something if they had. It’s my own fault, really-” He cut himself off by laughing shallowly into his bubbling cup. Something about the way the liquid made the noise echo had it sounding even emptier. It also had Keith’s blood in his cheeks with rage.

“Lance, you’re not old enough to drink,” he said, startling the boy in front of him. It sounded more vicious than he intended, and he was acutely aware that insulting Lance was _definitely_ not what he came to the bar to do. His boyfriend looked sheepish, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Even with the guilty look, however, Keith was confident the paladin hadn’t been drinking. His right hand man must have been looking guilty because of something else. Maybe the lapse in self confidence he’d let Keith hear. He also looked a little scared of the man who’d snuck up to tower behind him to silently eavesdrop. That had Keith’s face softening in guilt. This wasn’t what he came to the bar to do.

_But between the drinks and subtle things,_

_the holes in my apologies, you know…_

“It’s apple juice,” he said, defensively. The leader’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. Lance recognized the look and added to his explanation. “Really! You can have some if you don’t believe me. Or even if you do. I don’t mind sharing with you.” He smiled softly, offering his cup to Keith by pressing it to his lips. Keith believed him and shook his head with a quiet apology, frustrated with himself for making _this_ the topic of conversation.

His focus recalibrated, settling again on the woman next to his boyfriend. He couldn’t make out her eyes; the glittery lighting of the room reflected off her sunglasses and tarnished any chance of identifying her. Even so, he could tell she was squinting in some sort of calculation, her cheeks squishing upward in thought. She ran a finger along the rim of her own drink, momentarily shifting her attention to her long, manicured nails. She shifted it back to Lance.

“So you’re saying your _boyfriend_ let you get hurt like that, but you still think he cares about you?” At that statement, Keith retracted his previous thought. She was _definitely_ a bad person. If one of the pillars in the room were to suddenly come crashing down on her, he was certain he wouldn’t mourn.

As much as he wanted to wring her neck, he was more concerned with the silence from his boyfriend. He quickly ordered her to kindly fuck off, then took her abandoned seat next to Lance. The rotten smell of cigarettes lingered in the chair longer than she did. He scooted the smoky seat closer, wincing at the angry noise it made as it scraped the floor. The red paladin’s hands were shaking slightly and Keith reached out to grab them. They were cold. The condensation from his drink had wet and frozen his fingertips, making them aching, quaking icicles.

Lance squeezed back, looked up, and said, “Thanks for getting rid of her.” It was a quiet and fragile sentence. As Keith looked into his eyes, they looked just as wet as the outside of his cup. It broke his heart. He kept thinking about how he came over to keep that woman from insulting Lance; he came over to keep him from crying. There he was, though, on the verge of tears. They were close enough for Keith to pull Lance into a hug.

“You know she was wrong, right?” Lance hummed quietly as an answer. Keith knew enough about his boyfriend to know how much he hated looking vulnerable in front of other people. He took this nonverbal answer as an attempt to keep from revealing the pain in his voice. Lance buried his nose in Keith’s shoulder briefly, before Keith nudged him back. He needed to hear his boyfriend say it. “Right?”

“Of course,” he answered weakly, unable to lock eyes with the black paladin. It didn’t sound genuine to Keith, but he also didn’t know how to approach that issue. He knew how Lance got. Between the terrible way he’d been treated in Keith’s absence and his literal death, there was no way Keith could blame him. None of his teammates spoke to him how they would if they knew the way it hurt him. Every time he got called dumb, every time he got left out, they thought nothing of it. They figured he could just handle it how they could. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He needed someone to tell his anxiety off, and after Keith left, there was no one to do that. The black paladin could still see the repercussions of all that pent up anxiety reflecting in his boyfriend’s glassy eyes. In the tears he heard him swallow back down his throat.

Fingers still trembling, Lance reached towards his drink. After he managed to get a solid enough hold, he passed it to the taller man next to him. “Do you want the rest?” Keith blinked, accepting the cup, but still confused as to why he didn’t want the last half. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” he explained, “I don’t want it to get all lukewarm and gross.” The leader nodded, his eyes trailing after the footsteps Lance took. He felt like he should be doing something. Saying something.

He was terrible at this, Keith determined. Now that Lance was gone, the rest of the room came back to the forefront of his attention. The music seemed louder and more obnoxious, though he passed the latter off as a side effect of his being mad at himself. He chugged the apple juice more aggressively than a carbonated children’s drink should be chugged. In preparation of Lance’s return, he ordered more.

So there he was, sliding a cup of sparkling apple juice back and forth between his hands. He bounced it off one hand, then the other, then back, all while his mind was elsewhere. He was so atrocious at comforting his boyfriend. Keith had very few feelings, but Lance had so many. So, so many. He was bubbling with them, just like his drink was bubbling with whatever they put in it. And Keith loved him for it. He loved the way he had all these emotions, truly, he just had no idea how to deal with them. The man kept rolling the thoughts in his head, getting angrier and angrier at his inability to help. If he could just _fight_ his anxiety, it would be so easy.

Or maybe not, he realized. He couldn’t fight off his boyfriend’s attackers when he got that scar, why would he be able to fight off anything else? His poor boyfriend would have that scar forever; he’d have a memory of Keith’s inability to keep him safe, for the rest of his life. How would he ever make it up to him? He was so bad at this.

The black paladin glanced at the time on his phone. It had been a while since Lance left, but he wasn’t sure exactly how long. Too long, he decided, grabbing the plastic cup and pushing away from the bar. He saw a flash of an image of the red paladin crying alone in a bathroom stall. That made his decision of whether or not to go check up on him an easy one. His walk to the bathroom was as fast as he could make it. When he passed Shiro, his brother called him over, but he waved him in a way that said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hey, Lance,” he called, stepping into the bathroom. There was no response. On the plus side, he didn’t hear anyone sobbing, either. As he inspected the room and its stalls more closely, however, he realized there was no one there to sob. This was the only bathroom anywhere nearby, maybe Lance had left before Keith got here, and he hadn’t noticed him pass. He jogged back out of the bathroom and into the main hall, immediately looking at the unoccupied seats at the bar. Lance hadn’t gotten back. He made his way to Shiro.

“Fancy seeing you out of your corner, Keith,” he greeted. The younger man shook his head, feeling panic start to get a grip on the back of his neck.

“I’m looking for Lance, did you see him come out of the bathroom, earlier?”

Shiro nodded, “Yeah, about ten minutes ago.” The panic gripped harder, Keith swatted behind his nape, like that would make it go away. Had it been ten minutes already? Had Keith spent that long lost in thought? “He was on his phone and he left the hall. Has he not come back? I’m pretty sure you guys are obligated to be here.” The former leader swung his weight onto one hip, crossing his arms. His face contorted in some thought he wasn’t sharing. Keith slipped his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it immediately.

“I’m gonna call him.” His phone opened to a text conversation he’d been having with Lance earlier, so all he had to do was click the little phone symbol at the top. It rang one time before it was picked up. “Hello?” The other end was silent. Had he not heard Keith? “Lance,” he said, staring at the quickly warming juice in the hand not holding the phone. There was muffled talking in his ear, then the sound of fabric shifting. Oh. He must have picked up on accident, the phone was clearly still in his pocket. But then who was he talking to? He tried to listen in. The conversation was smothered by his pocket, and Keith was just about to hang up, when he heard it.

“No, please! Stop it!” That was undoubtedly Lance’s voice. He kept the phone pressed to his ear, hoping for some sort of indication of where his boyfriend was, but he turned to Shiro. He shoved the drink into his brother’s hand.

“We need to find him, something’s wrong,” he muttered, covering the microphone with his newly emptied hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Shiro, we have to _find_ him to find out,” the black paladin snapped, starting towards the exit he assumed Lance took. “You tell the other paladins, I’m going to start looking.” Shiro nodded, excusing himself from his group of teachers.

Keith started sprinting the moment he left the hall, choking on the silence on the other end of the phone. The panic had a hold on everything now. His legs felt heavy with it, but he didn’t hesitate. The noises of the main hall were gone, but they were replaced with his own thoughts. It was only one thought, really. _Not again_.

The phone beeped, signifying Lance had hung up. Keith shoved his phone into his pocket, angrily. He’d search every room one by one if he had to. He dragged his blade out, activating it. He kicked open every door he passed, hoping to find his boyfriend. When he glanced down one hallway, he found a lead he almost wished he hadn’t. A scarlet handprint with narrow fingers, Lance’s fingers, was smudged on the wall. Keith felt the need to gag as he followed droplets of blood on the ground. The trail curved into a room with a half-open door. He dreaded opening it. Or, rather, he dreaded what he’d find.

“So, it’s happened again, hasn’t it?” Someone was in there, but they didn’t sound like his boyfriend. “How long have you been gone now? Fifteen, twenty minutes? And they still haven’t noticed!” There was a cough from further in the room, and words Keith couldn’t decipher. “Hm, that’s a good question. I don’t really know why I’m doing this. All my friends are in jail now, thanks to you, so I figured you’d be a great target to cure my boredom, I guess.” The sickening voice was so familiar to him, but he was too impatient to wait any longer. “And really, who would miss someone like you?”

Keith swung the door open, pointing his sword at the woman who’d been speaking. She whipped around at the sound of the door slamming into the wall, and her voice finally clicked in the black paladin’s head. He recognized her as the woman from the bar, but as he looked into her eyes, he recognized her even more. The eyes he wouldn’t forget. She laughed at his presence.

“Look, someone finally came,” she cooed, turning her eyes back to the ground in front of her. Keith’s gaze followed. Upon seeing his boyfriend injured on the floor, for the second time in only a few months, he lost any semblance of patience. He lunged at her, pinning her neck to the wall with his sword. She laughed and the smell of cigarettes on her breath made him wretch. He forced it back down, slamming the butt of his sword into the side of her head. It was hard enough to knock her out.

He stumbled over to Lance, heart breaking more when he heard him murmur, “you actually came,” with a weak, awestruck smile. He looked genuinely surprised to see Keith, as if his boyfriend keeping him from being killed was some higher level stuff. As if he hadn’t expected to make it through the second encounter with this woman. What the hell kind of lies had she been feeding him?

“Of course I did,” Keith answered carefully, sliding his arms under Lance’s body to heave him up. “Why the hell wouldn’t I?” From what he’d seen of the injuries, they weren’t fatal, or even incapacitating. It made him imagine Lance being hit again and again, completely able to fight back, but taking the blows anyway. His thoughts were fueled further by the snippet he’d heard on the phone earlier. He imagined Lance covering his ears and crying, begging her to stop. The pictured scenario suddenly got more vivid, and likely, when the black paladin noticed the swell in his boyfriend’s eyes, and the smears of his own blood on his ears in the faint shapes of hands. He was imagining all the ways he hadn’t fought back and all the reasons why. He didn’t want to imagine, anymore.

Lance hummed before speaking, “I dunno, she just said you wouldn’t.” He finally answered, ending the horrible scenes Keith was imagining. The red paladin let himself be carried, coughing a few times into his elbow, every now and then. Keith was trotting back down the pathway to the main hall. He passed the other paladins and nodded in the direction of the unconscious criminal. Might as well leave that cleanup work to them, he’d handle Lance.

“And you believed her? The enemy?”

The man in his arms was silent for a second, then he tiredly said, “Keith, she had a lot of reasons. And they were all things I already knew were true.” He made a different turn, squeezing Lance closer as he did so. He opted not to run through the grand hall to get to the infirmary; no one wanted guests panicking.

“But why didn’t you fight back, Lance? Why didn’t you try to get away from her?”

He didn’t answer at first, he just shrugged, or the closest he could get to shrugging without irritating the injuries on his shoulders. Keith gave him a look and he finally cracked. “I figured you guys would be better off without me, anyway. I’ve been nothing but deadweight, Keith. I’ve been attacked directly twice in two months! I figured the team could find someone better, and that you’d move on! I didn’t want to get away if all it meant was that I’d continue being a burden.”

“I’d never let you just die, Lance,” Keith responded firmly, glancing down to look his boyfriend in the eyes, with the hopes that it would show the conviction in his answer and the honesty behind it. Lance’s eyes were closed, though.

“You already did,” he breathed. “All of you did. And then you were still mean to me after, like you weren’t, I dunno, startled by my death? Like the realization that you could have lost me _wasn’t_ a big deal.” Lance reached up and began scratching his upper arms absentmindedly. His eyes were shut more tightly now, his eyebrows furrowed. The scrapes that woman had left on his arms began bleeding more quickly.

“Lance, I,” Keith was at a loss for words.

_I'm trying hard to take it back._

“We didn’t know.”

The injured paladin stopped scratching his arms and lifted his hands to rub his bloodied fingers in tired motions around his eyes.

He breathed a quiet sigh, and his next sentence rode it like it was a wave. Or drowned in it like it was a flood. Keith was too pained to tell. “I thought you wouldn’t know this time either,” he said grimly, his voice raising in pitch a bit. He hadn’t explicitly said he thought he was going to die, for real this time, but it was obvious with the way he said it. With the echo in his own words.

For the first time that night, the leader’s stress made everything too quiet. He didn’t hear the infirmary door creak when he opened it with his back. Or the ragged breaths he was taking, winded from how far he’d run with his boyfriend in his arms. He didn’t hear his pulse in his ears. He placed Lance on a bed and pressed the button to call in a nurse. After that, he knew he had a few minutes until someone got away from the event in the hall, and to the infirmary. He intended to use every minute he had.

_So if by the time the bar closes…_

Kneeling in front of his sitting boyfriend, he cupped his face in his hands. “I don’t know what she told you, but she was wrong,” he started, rubbing his thumb along wet and scratched cheeks. The cuts darted across his cheeks like cracks did on dry ground. “You’re so important to all of us. You’re so important to me. I know they were cruel to you, I know I left, and I can’t change that. But whatever she told you about this,” he murmured, dragging one hand down to rest against the scar. “It was wrong. It’s not proof we don’t care, Lance.” Keith dragged his hand back up to the red paladin’s face, wiping away dried tears and blood as best as he could. “It’s proof you survived.”

In a way, the man knew he was trying to convince himself as much as Lance. As he told him the scar didn’t mean his team didn’t care, he was also telling himself that it didn’t mean Keith had failed. He’d still managed to get him to the hospital in time. He hadn’t failed. Lance’s heartbeat against his fingertips was proof enough of that.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get there. I’m sorry you had to listen to her and whatever lies she told you for as long as you did.” He pulled Lance’s forehead to his own and the younger man shut his eyes. “But I’m here now. The scars I couldn’t protect you from, both inside and out, I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to heal them.” He pressed a kiss to Lance’s nose.

It sniffed shortly after, a garbled question following that, “You mean that?”

“Of course I do, and I’ll tell you as many times as you need. I’ll say it ten times the number of lies she fed you.”

The red paladin laughed a little, blinking tears out of his eyelashes. “That’s a lot.”

_And you feel like falling down…_

“Don’t care, still gonna do it,” he responded, accentuating his statement by hopping up, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser, and wetting it. Making his way back over, he resumed his position on the floor, and began running the towel along the cuts and stains on Lance’s face. Keith didn’t say anything, but inside, he was glad that Lance had finally realized they were lies. He doubted Lance knew that’s what he’d admitted.

The nurse came in and took over caring for Lance. She was still dressed in a fancy gown, making it apparent that she’d come from the party still thriving a few turns down the hallway. When she’d bandaged all the injuries, she quickly excused herself, giddy to be getting back to the festivities. Keith landed next to Lance on the cot, as soon as she was gone. The shorter man let his head rest against the other’s shoulder and his short hair tickled Keith’s neck, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it.

“You wanna go back to your room to rest? I’m sure we’ve all been excused from the party, and I’m happy to walk with you.” Lance hummed, considering the question and offer.

“Too tired,” he whined, pressing his nose further into Keith’s shoulder.

“I’ll carry you, if you want.”

“Whoa, you’re offering to cradle me? What if I don’t remember?” Ah, there was the smile in his voice. It was finally back. “Kidding. I promise I will.” With that, Keith let Lance crawl on his back to carry the lighter man to his room.

They walked for a while, the dorms were a decent distance away, and eventually Keith could vaguely make out the fact that Lance’s breaths were getting longer and heavier. Lance made cute humming noises every now and then, usually after he nuzzled his nose into Keith’s hair. He called his name softly. Keith liked the way it sounded. He couldn’t stand the romance trope of liking the way your lover says your name, in fact, he hated romance in general. But the tired, snuggly way Lance was clinging to him was so soft. It made him seem so comfortable and happy. It made Keith know he’d helped Lance feel better.

“Yeah, Lance?” He finally answered, knowing the long silence wasn’t at all uncomfortable for either of them.

“Thank you,” the red paladin sighed, and Keith heard him fall asleep not long after.

He knew he could never go back and change leaving, or change the scar he’d been unable to stop. No amount of apologies would ever fix the cruel words he had said or the implication that he wanted to get rid of Lance at the gameshow. But he was going to do everything he could to make sure those mistakes never repeated themselves. That was a big, lifelong goal, though; in the meantime, he had to focus on the little things. He was going to make it up to Lance, even if he had to do it one piggyback ride at a time.

_I'll carry you home_ , _tonight._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I considered having the ending as Keith reenacting the "I love you, bitch" vine, but I figured it would ruin the mood.  
> Let me know how I did! :)


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